The Final Semester is a heartbreakingly quiet observation on the struggles young Koreans face when entering the workforce.
Metal, concrete, cold factories, broken systems, and empty dreams… Yes, this is the way it has always been — but not how it should be.
Returning to the Korean Film Festival in Paris for the second time after presenting her first feature, A Leave, in 2021, Lee Ran-Hee’s sophomore film, The Final Semester. A powerful and empathetic film that quietly captures the struggles of high school students as they prepare to step into the unjust workforce.
Told through an ultrarealistic narrative, the story focuses on the final semester at a vocational high school, where students attend internships instead of classes. This work experience is crucial because it can grant them access to a stable job, a chance to attend a good university, or even an exemption from military service. In the case of our main character, Chang-woo (Yoo Lee-ha), he has been accepted at a new factory for machine manufacturing.
Chang-woo’s family consists of his single mother and two younger brothers. Financially, they have not been at ease, so this job could really help them out. His younger brother is at a regular high school, studying for university — a character who represents students outside the vocational system. Though he doesn’t need to learn a manual craft or skill, he spends his after-school hours huddled in his room, studying with little rest.
As the youngest and newest intern, Chang-woo has to work extra hard and learn as much as he can. But this isn’t a gentle learning environment; having just started, he is immediately scolded for not learning fast enough. There is no talking back to superiors. You must always be satisfied with what the company provides and be forever grateful. The only warm light in the grim year comes from moments shared with other young workers — eating lunch together or waiting at the bus stop after a long day. A truly rare, refreshing relief. When the warm tones finally appear on screen, you secretly wish they could stay just a little longer.
The cold visuals and mechanical sounds pull us into the skin of our young protagonist. He isn’t very talkative, not rebellious — a standard good student. But his silence doesn’t bring calmness; instead, it aches. Part of you wants him to tell his supervisors how wrong everything is, but on the other hand, this is his only craft, and he simply cannot risk losing this job.
The job itself is dangerous enough; working with large machines and saws naturally carries the risk of injury. That risk only worsens when the company refuses to provide the necessary safety equipment for its workers. Amid the metal and concrete, the coldest thing isn’t the machinery, but the system that disregards them. The young workers labor late, enduring excessive overtime without complaint. What use would complaining be? When a supervisor visits to ensure that conditions are acceptable, she proves to be just another pawn confined by the unspoken rules of the system.
These young students may not dream of glamorous jobs or prodigious talents. They have worked to learn their craft and, in hopes of securing a stable job, should be protected by fair and reasonable working conditions. But that is not the case in the real world. There is no grand battle or unexpected twist to save our protagonist — only real life. Chang-woo is a hardworking and good kid, too good to have to endure the suffocating tension and pressure of the environment he’s been given.
Lee brings attention to this heavy subject, showing every powerless piece entangled in the giant machine of the system. Her visual narration immerses you in their every footstep. It may be a slow and observational film, but not for a moment was my mind elsewhere. You can’t help but care for the young workers, knowing they are portraits of people who, right now, are living their present and future in those exact shoes. Lee’s near-documentary approach only makes every moment more tangible. This final semester is not filled with cheers and excitement for the future, but with worrisome weight, far too heavy for the young minds.
Metal, concrete, cold factories, broken systems, and empty dreams… Yes, this is the way it has always been — but not how it should be.
The Final Semester had its European premiere in Paris on October 29, 2025, at the 20th Korean Film Festival in Paris, presented in the Paysage section. Streaming options are not yet available.
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